Firewhiskey Hurts
by dozy-joe-2000
Summary: Really, I'm not good at Summaries. I'm also not good at writing women, or in fact romance of any kind. So, it's about the marauders mainly, with a bit of the romance that accompanies them. But please read and review, because I really value feedback.
1. Chapter 1

**Firewhiskey Hurts**

Chapter One

_1976, James Potter's abode_

_About lunchtime _

Strong summer sunlight forced its way through the heavy curtains and cast itself upon the floor, directly on the closed eyelids of the boy sleeping there. The room was untidy, clothes and magazines across the floor, posters tacked up at wonky angles upon the walls. Four boys, strewn across the room fully clothed but unconscious.

And four empty bottles of Firewhiskey, lying innocently and unassumingly on the ground, shot glasses around them. The boy to whom the sunlight had made its way first cracked a bleary eye and immediately regretted it. Something akin to a rhinoceros had seen fit to make its permanent residence within the confines of his skull and had then started running laps.

"Oh God. That. Really. _Sucks_." He sat up, his crumpled T-shirt smoothing out. He clasped one hand to his pounding head, just above his right eye, and made the vague yet customary attempt at flattening his hair that was traditional upon his waking up. He tried once again to open his eyes and the first thing he saw was one of the empty Firewhiskey bottles. It faced him, the laughing wizard upon the label looking straight at him.

"Shut up." He muttered and gave it a kick.

"James. What are you moving for are you mad?" came the voice of a shorter boy with short brown hair who gazed at him semi-conscious from the corner. A shorter still, chubbier boy snored loudly a few feet to his right.

"What do you mean, Remus?" James answered, his voice hoarse.

"The room is spinning, how do you expect to stand up? And what the hell is that thing on the ceiling it's looking right at me!" came an equally distant reply.

James cast his eyes up, and saw nothing. Nothing at all. Only a dangling, bare light bulb.

"Okay, Remus. No more Firewhiskey for you mate. We'll get something less potent next time. Like turps."

He gained his feet in one easy half-stumble and walked over to where the curtains were drawn. He swung them open, and stretched, peering out over the countryside beyond – the field that sloped away from the house to the stream, and beyond that the woods. He felt like he might combust in direct sunlight, and so turned away.

"James what the hell do you think you're playing at? Opening the bloody curtains. Bastard." Came muffled protests from James' pillow, in which Sirius' head was buried. Somehow, James had ended up sleeping on the floor while Sirius passed out on his bed. How that had worked out he would never know.

"Come on Padfoot. Get up." James started, going over to shake his friend properly awake. He approached from the wrong angle, a dangerous one, but by the time he realised, it was too late. Sirius' leg lashed out with surprising swiftness and he was kicked soundly in the crotch. James let out a whoosh of air and fell to his knees, doubled over.

"Still a morning person I see Sirius. I should have remembered from last time. My fault."

The reply was not discernible from gibberish. James gained his feet a little more shakily this time.

He dragged the door open despite Peter's choice of sleeping place and left the room into a wood-floored corridor. Across the way was his parents' room, currently vacant as they were on holiday.

He walked to the end of the corridor and descended the stairs. He crossed the corridor at the bottom and entered the bright kitchen. As he did so, four things happened – the kettle began to boil itself, bread dropped into the toaster as if from nowhere, and the fridge swung open.

"Thanks kitchen."

A blackboard affixed to the door changed from blank to a short message in thick white chalk.

_S'okay_.

James made his way to the fridge, from which he retrieved milk and butter, and then went to the counter. Above the counter on which stood the toaster, a microwave (with which his Dad was cheating on his mother, he was convinced – he was fascinated by it), the kettle, and a flustered owl, was an open window.

"Off the bloody counter. Go on, shift." Muttered James, shooing the owl off of the place where people prepared food. He set down the butter and milk and waved his hands at it. It misconstrued this as an act of aggression and leapt into the air, scratching at his hands with its talons.

"No! Sit somewhere else, I'm not attacking you! _Ow! _I said I'm not attacking you."

The Owl calmed, after taking a chunk out of his wrist, and alighted upon the back of a chair residing at the small kitchen table behind James. It dutifully held out a leg, and he untied the note that was attached to it. Short and sweet, what he had come to expect from his father.

_Back in 4 days. Don't wreck the fucking house. Feed the owl and send it back it's a rental._

James laughed. Too late. A tin sat beside the toaster. He fed the owl and it disappeared through the window again. He screwed up the note and threw it into the bin beside the counter. The kettle whistled a celebration of the completion of its water-boiling mission. He opened the cupboard over the counter and four mugs hurled themselves at him. One hit him above the left eye, knocking him to the ground.

"_Merlin's beard_; what the hell?" he lamented, clutching his new injury, hoping he wasn't concussed.

The four mugs lined up beside the kettle like clay soldiers with handles. James dragged himself upright on the counter's edge and dropped teabags, also retrieved from the cupboard, into each cup. The water poured itself, he poured the milk in, and dredged each cup with a teaspoon to retrieve the teabags, thus completing the first item on his hungover agenda.

"Right, excellent. Next." He murmured to himself.

The toaster threw the toast blindly into the air and with the practised skill of a chaser, he caught them both. He reached into the drawer from which he had procured his teaspoon, and upon discovering a total absence of knives, he produced a spoon and did his best to butter the toast with that. Carrying a plate of toast, and doing his best to keep four mugs of tea in the air with his wand, he had a semblance of breakfast. And with only one brutal head injury to show for it. It was going to be a good day.

He backed into his room and manipulated the flying mugs through the doorway. The mugs bumped gently into their recipients' skulls until they were grudgingly accepted.

"James you morning bastard you." Sirius mumbled, turning over and sitting up. He was covered by the duvet, but he was evidently in a lesser state of dress than the others.

"What _is _the deal with the drunkenness/nudity correlation with you Sirius?"

Sirius gave him a thunderous glare, sipping at his tea. James smirked.

"Cheer up Sirius," Remus intervened before bickering could begin, "I'll drink this mate, then I need to get off, there's a couple of errands Marie wants running."

"Alright mate, but you are entirely whipped, you realise that?" James answered. Sirius mumbled his agreement. Peter continued to snore, despite the now-severe blows his mug was now dealing him out.

"You guys are just jealous that you aren't getting any at the moment." Remus joked.

Both murmured their grudging assent.

"What about summer homework? Have you guys started that yet?" Remus asked, changing the subject.

Sirius chuckled, and was swiftly joined by James. After a few moments they were laughing raucously. James managed to compose himself first, while Sirius was still gripped by gales of laughter.

"No Moony. No we haven't. But nice one on the sense of humour I needed that. My head's swimming a little from the mug attack I underwent in the kitchen."

Remus chuckled too.

"What time is it?" Came a groggy voice as Peter finally awoke, and gripped his angry mug.

"Dunno. Daytime." James responded.

"Thanks mate, really helpful. I'd better go lads. See you on the nineteenth eh?" Peter said, livening up.

"Alright. Wait, what's the nineteenth?" Sirius interjected.

"My birthday Padfoot. Don't worry its only the tenth or so time I've mentioned it in two days." Peter sarcastically replied.

"Oops, my bad."

Just then, Sirius had a mood swing. He leapt to his feet, the duvet falling away.

"I've got a plan!" He announced, raising a clenched fist.

"Me too!" James jumped in, turning away in disgust. "My plan is you put on some pants!"

"What?" Sirius asked confused.

Remus answered him, also having shielded his eyes.

"Christ, Sirius, you're naked mate! Cover up! _In the name of all that's holy, cover up_!" he screamed.

Peter had wrapped his head in a discarded T-shirt.

Sirius looked down at his nakedness.

"Well would you look at that. An unexpected turn of events and one easily resolved."

There was a flurry of motion, and, presuming all was well, they all risked looking.

They immediately returned to their original positions on the matter, averting their eyes.

"If it's easily resolved then get resolving!" bellowed James.

"I can't find my pants, mate. Like at all. Or, in fact, any of my clothes. Wait!"

Another flurry of motion.

"Its safe now guys."

They cautiously risked another look. James' face turned from disgust to horror.

"Mate – not cool."

Sirius had fashioned a loincloth from his favourite T-shirt, a black shirt with 'Led Zeppelin' on the front, and in white below it Robert Plant as an angel, arms outstretched, drawn in white.

"Sorry, improvisation and all that." He retrieved his tea and sat down, continuing to sip at it.

"So what was the plan mate?" asked Peter.

"What?"

"The plan that led to the unfortunate incident a few moments ago." Remus clarified.

"Incident?"

"With your twig and berries hanging out for all to see."

"Ah yes, Incident! What about it?"

"For the love of God, Sirius, you jumped up because you had a plan." James piped in.

"Oh. Of course. The plan was lets go and get whammed." Sirius answered, remembering.

There was a moment's hesitance in which they all stared at him incredulously after the heavy evening the previous night.

"Works for me." James said after due consideration.

"You guys go ahead. I'll meet you later on." Remus said, rolling his eyes. Peter nodded agreement.

"Cool." Sirius and James answered in unison.

"Hey James," Sirius began, as Remus and Peter departed, "You have had an empty house for what, two weeks? And no enormous house-ruining parties. You know, man, you're really letting the side down there."

"On the contrary my dear Padfoot. I have a plan. My parents aren't back for three days. Which means party the night after next. Gives us plenty of time for invites. And booze-acquisition."

"I like your thinking Prongs. But we must attend to more pressing matters."

James stuttered and choked on the mouthful of tea.

"More pressing than booze? _To you_? Matters like what?"

"Matters like where in the sodding hell did my clothes get to?"

*** *** *** *** *** *** ***

_Darkness, silence...all-consuming, gripping her in a cold vice of anxiety and fear. Floating in a void of oily blackness. Reality buckled before her disbelieving eyes. Reality tore, split. Beyond it, violet eyes of madness; and laughter. The sound of unadulterated evil, bubbling, building, pouring through the reality hole, filling the void with it's frightening intensity. She screamed, but the noise was drowned out by – _

"Lily? Lily! Wake up!"

"Sod off."

"Lily Evans, I'm your bloody mother! Respect me."

Lily opened her eyes blearily, unable to remember the nuances of her dream. Her long red hair spilled out on the pillow around her, pooling in the crevasse her head had left as she leaned up a little in bed to see her mother bustling around her excessively black room. Her walls were covered in black and white striped wallpaper, her bedclothes were black...her blue door had a large black poster upon which _Pink Floyd _was emblazoned in pink balloon-like letters.

"I wish you'd brighten this place up, Lily." Her mother said in the light Irish accent she had maintained from her youth in Dublin. She was fussing and collecting dirty clothes from the floor and chair that were her only pieces of furniture besides her bed.

"I know mum."

She tutted and went silent, bustling out again.

Lily peered around her room, and was then diverted by a tapping at the window. A white owl, with eyes like ice. She hurried to the window in her pyjamas, throwing the duvet on the floor, her lithe figure was a hindrance to movement rather than a help. For some inexplicable reason she was clumsy to the point of self-destructive. She swung the window open, and let it in. It alighted on the table and then allowed her to remove the note. The owl waited patiently for her to read the note.

Lily unwrapped it and sighed. It had begun early this year. They hadn't even _begun_ seventh year and Potter had actually asked her out by owl.

_Will you go out with me?_

_Signed, if you don't know by now then you aren't as clever as you make out._

She chuckled in spite of herself. It wasn't that he wasn't attractive, and he certainly had a sense of humour. It was that he could also be a total arsehole when he wasn't thinking – which was fairly often.

She chuckled and wrote a short reply.

_No._

_No._

_No._

_No._

_No._

_There's a few there in advance too, you might have noticed._

_Signed, Lily. _

She sent Potter's owl away again.

*** *** *** *** *** *** ***


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

James and Sirius walked down the street, Sirius now mercifully fully dressed. They had pockets stuffed with accumulated muggle money that they had essentially scavenged from James' house. The result of this was that they were now on the way to the _Jug and Bottle_ pub in the village. With a mission.

"So, Sirius. Mission statement if you please." James asked him, a smirk in his voice.

"Well, James, I'm glad you asked. One should never enter a live-drinking operation without a full and detailed brief." Sirius started. James's smirk grew exponentially. "We shall enter the 'serve a minor' saloon, and drink ourselves into a stupor."

"Detailed mate."

"It's what I do."

The two turned a corner and walked up to the pub, distinguished from the buildings next to it by a hanging sign that creaked on it's rusty bracket.

The two entered the pub and walked up to the hunched barman. The atmosphere was warm and stank of alcohol and vomit. But, as underage drinkers, they could not as the adage goes, be choosers.

"Two pints of your finest pisswater please barman, and here is fifty of your English pounds to pay for them. And by that I mean of course fifty of your English pence." Sirius reeled off, and the barman smiled.

(NB I'm trying to keep to pre-massive inflation values – in the late seventies a pint of beer was something like twenty pence and odd)

"You boys couldn't be more underage if you walked in carrying lollipops. But, lucky for you, I couldn't give a toss." He quipped, and grabbed a couple of pint glasses from a rack overhead. He tipped the glasses to a forty-five degree angle and began to pour.

"So Sirius, how long were you thinking that little entrance up." James whispered as the man poured.

"A good five minutes I reckon. Got us served though didn't it."

James smiled. They always got served in the Jug. That was why they went there.

The pints were placed in front of them, and a couple of seconds later so was change from Sirius' fifty pence. They both took long draughts of their pints. Really long draughts.

They slammed the empty glasses down on the bar, and James said, between gasps for breath, "Two more mate please."

The barman began to pour, eyeing the two with mirth.

"Pace yourselves lads."

The barman wandered off down the bar as the lads swigged their pints once again.

"So have you written Lily yet? Satisfied your hot red-headed addiction?" Sirius asked, amusement in his eyes.

"God Sirius, how desperate for her do you think I..." James began but Sirius cut him off.

"Have you?"

James sighed.

"Only once though." He specified, waggling his index finger.

"When?"

"Well you know how earlier I said I was going to grab my trainers so we could go the pub?" asked James.

"Yes..." prompted Sirius.

"You know how it took me an hour?"

"Christ you must have written her an _essay_!" Sirius said incredulously and swigged his beer.

"Nah, one sentence. Well two counting the extra-long signature. Then I hung around for fifty minutes hoping the Owl would get its bloody skates on."

"Wow, James. That is truly, truly pathetic." Sirius joked.

"I know mate. I don't know why, that's what kills me," James took a long gulp of his beer and ran a hand through his messy hair. Some girls that looked only a little older than them took notice. "She's the only one that makes me act like this. No others. I mean, Kathy Ling was hot," Sirius agreed with a gesture of his pint, "but even then I was able to maintain my loveably arrogant ways."

"That is true mate. However I have your answer."

"What's that?" James asked, looking relieved.

"You have since become a screaming girl." James looked at him angrily for a moment, but then the two began to laugh.

"Speaking of girls mate, I see a couple of prime examples giving us the eye. Let us engage them in witty and intelligent banter."

James laughed again. Sirius always found a way to cheer him up.

"Let's mate."

The two picked up their drinks, walked around the bar and went towards the two girls, a giggling blonde and a pretty brunette. As they sauntered over, they began to deliver their cultured and engaging opening lines.

"Hey ladies, James here can neck a pint in four seconds. Speaking of other things we can do in four seconds..." Sirius began.

"Sirius be nice." James interrupted. He leaned on the bar next to the blonde. "You know...I'm the Queen of England's son."

"No you aren't." The blonde returned, amused.

"True. Can I buy you a drink?"

Remus arrived an hour later to find the two half slumped on the bar, inebriated, six glasses in front of each.

"Remus! _It's Remus_!" said Sirius loudly.

Remus smiled. The barman looked at him.

"Pint?"

"Please mate."

Remus approached and put an arm around each of the drunken guys' shoulders.

"Been here long guys?"

"About an hour. We're a little tipsy." Muttered James. And our female company appears to have disappeared. Ah here they are!"

Remus looked up and watched two very drunk girls approach from the direction of the beer garden. He grinned. "Sirius, James. You are terrible, terrible people."

"Wrong, only I am. James is alright really, I just lead him astray." laughed Sirius.

The two girls approached, took their stools next to the two lads.

"Sorry Remus, I was going to introduce you to the _second _brunette...but I guess I'm just seeing double." Sirius remarked, and the brunette girl to which he had attached himself giggled.

"I am Remus, ladies, I see you have had the unfortunate honour of meeting my friends." He shook their hands.

"Remus, I'm feeling merry." Proclaimed James.

"Well six pints inside of an hour will do that to you. I need to catch up." Remus sank the pint as soon as it arrived and paid for two. The barman refilled the glass.

"Where's Peter?" Sirius asked.

"No idea I'm afraid Sirius. But he did send me a message – _can't make it tonight. Because I'm a woofter_. I confess I invented that last bit."

"Poetic. Mandy here, and I, are going to get better acquainted somewhere quieter." James stated plainly.

Half eleven rolled around. The girls had left around a half hour before. James came back into the pub looking satisfied with himself, and Remus was the only one who laughed.

"Boys you're going to have to clear out." The barman mumbled, rubbing his tired eyes. "Kicking out time for those too inebriated to make it later."

"A good point my good man! I shall henceforth acquiesce to your request."

It would have been eloquent had Remus not slurred the _entire sentence_. The barman smiled. "Well lads, I will see you soon. And walk safe."

The three stumbled from the pub.

"I'd stumble around until I got home lads, but somehow I don't think I'd make it." Remus muttered drunkenly.

"Of course you would mate. MANDAR. But crash at mine its cool." James answered, equally pissed. Before Remus could ask what in the world MANDAR was, some voices sounded loud behind them, and rushing footsteps.

"Oh shit. I think somebody is trying to get us to stop. In the dead of night. Very odd." Sirius said, remarkably clearly.

"Oi you three you slow down a bit. What's your hurry?" the voice was derisive and sarcastic. James knew what was coming. He held his arms out to stop his friends.

"We're going to have to deal with this ourselves lads, it ain't going to go away."

"Ah! I say we keep walking and don't jump to conclusions." Remus interjected, but Sirius leapt in.

"Yeah you're right! I've never met a situation I couldn't talk my way out of."

Remus rolled his eyes.

The three turned nonetheless.

There were three of them too, approaching fast, wearing jeans and dark t-shirts. They looked as drunk as the three wizards. Sirius stepped towards them.

"Hey guys, how's it –"the foremost of the lads, a stocky guy with a shock of blonde hair, struck him, the ball of his fist knocking Sirius back a few steps. James lunged past him and hit the guy to the blonde man's left, knocking him down. The third lad, wearing a red jacket, lunged at Remus, who was not expecting it.

Sirius composed himself.

"Hey. That was a little underhand." Sirius muttered, and then kicked him hard in the crotch. As the boy fell to his knees he knee'd him in the temple.

James took a blow to the head from his opponent, and found himself trying to remember his dad's advice for if he ever got into this situation.

"_Go for the eyes, boy. Everyone expects you to go for the balls it's tradition. If a man is clutching his balls, yeah he might be a little incapacitated. But if you get the eyes you can pretty much hit the bastard as much as you want. Hahahahahaha! Because he can't see you! The pratt!"_

Then the man had dissolved into derisive laughter at a man he'd never met.

James couldn't help but smile a little.

James jabbed the bloke, since identified as 'Roy' by one of his mates, in the eyes, just as he aimed a kick at his unmentionables.

Both stumbled away from each other, groaning and clutching different elements of their anatomy. Still, James took his chance. One hand on his balls, he tackled 'Roy' slamming him into the pavement. He rolled off the prostrate figure in time to trip Sirius up as he was going to headbutt the blonde boy, and bring him to the ground.

There was an insane yelling permeating the otherwise quiet night. James rolled over so he could look down the street, and then saw the source. The third boy was running down the street, Remus chasing him, bellowing a string of curse words and trying to get a hold of him.

The others took the opportunity to leg it, apparently surprised by the resistance encountered. They were evidently chancers, just spoiling for a fight.

"Go on, run you cowards!" called Sirius, sounding a little woozy from the repeated blows to the head.

"Shut up Sirius, I can't take another kick in the balls and they might come back. Lets go and restrain Remus, go home, and drink some more." James pacified his friend.

"Agreed." Said Sirius, climbing to his feet and offering James a hand.

"Thanks Padfoot. Who were those guys?"

"On first guess I'd say bastards, but you can't be sure without thorough investigation." Sirius answered.

"Oh well mate. You alright?"

"Yeah," answered Sirius, "You?"

"Yeah."

The two set off to recapture their friend.

"You know, I propose we never upset Remus. Ever. Because he's nuts when he's angry." James offered.

"Agreed."

*** *** *** *** *** *** ***

"So you just brawled in the street like a complete thug?"

Marie Compton sat on the sofa in James Potter's living room, lecturing Remus, and by proxy, Sirius and James. The room was bright because of the French windows, the natural light going well with the soft green of the walls and the light-coloured wood of the coffee table and floor. There was the cream-coloured sofa and two big chairs of the same shade. It contained three hungover, beat-up, generally run-down teenagers, getting a lecture. Because they were listening, of course.

"Look, Marie, no offence," Sirius interjected, "but nobody is listening. Best wait 'till a bit later."

Marie looked momentarily affronted, her brown eyes sparkling with frustration, her pale hand stroking her dark hair.

"Plus in about ten seconds James is going to get attacked by his mugs again and I _really _want to hear that."

James had just left the room to make tea, and they could hear him through the partition wall bumping around in the kitchen. They heard the creak of a hinge, and then a reverberating thump.

"WHY?!" James intoned as he hit the floor.

Sirius laughed, clutching his sides.

Remus scowled at the noise and covered his ears, his hangover pounding. Marie put an arm around him.

"Aw. Is Remus a little hungover?"

He nodded and she kissed him. Sirius made a retching sound.

"Guys come on!"

"Oh well at least I'm dating Remus instead of getting him into street fights."

"To be fair, love, we were kind of just set upon it was nobodies fault but theirs. To be fair, we sent them running as well, so I'm counting it as a win." Remus interrupted, raised an out-facing palm, and Sirius promptly marched over to high-five him.

"So when are you guys getting booze for this party?" Marie asked, and Remus shrugged. In an irritatingly girly fashion she was playing with a bang of his hair. Sirius answered for him.

"No idea to be honest. James keeps talking about his stash but I'm fairly sure we must have drank that at some point."

At that moment James reappeared, with four mugs in the air once again, his wand guiding them. The three already-present teenagers looked at him confused.

They each grabbed one from the air, and James sat.

"James. Don't think me rude." Marie began, her head cocked to one side. "Why have you gaffa-taped bags of frozen peas to your head."

James sat there, his impromptu bruise-soother and hangover-cure apparently causing him no discomfort, though it virtually obscured his face, except for his mouth and eyes and nose.

"Well, Marie, I'm glad that you asked me that. I figured, if I use magic to keep them in place and thus soothe my many aches and pains, then it requires concentration. Which I am far too hungover for," he chuckled pompously, "and to hold them there requires effort, which again," another haughty chuckle, "I am far, _far_, too hungover for. So I turned to this – the most wonderful of muggle inventions. Gaffa tape."

The others looked at him, and then in unison shrugged. The room went quiet again, and there was nothing but the ticking of the clock above the French windows.

"So have you written Lily yet today? To tell her about your big muggle fight to make her think you're all manly?" Remus asked. An evil smile spread across his face. For a moment James struggled to find some kind of comeback, but eventually gave up.

"Shut up." He muttered.

"Oh dear, James, you didn't?" said Sirius.

"So who is coming to this party then? And where's the booze?" Marie interrupted, straight to the point.

James steepled his fingers. "For the first part of your question, I refer you to Sirius, master of ceremonies."

Sirius stood, and then wished he hadn't, wincing at his hangover. He sat down hard, and then brushed himself down self-importantly.

"Well, Marie, I have invited only the finest of the Gryffindor house, and a few selected others. And by that I mean sodding everybody." He finished and lapsed into silence. James nodded his appreciation, and continued the explanation.

"The booze on the other hand, will be a combination of stuff we get from a muggle store and my own personal stash of Firewhiskey that has only been growing despite our assorted sessions. Also, I will, to cover the cost of the booze, require financial aid from all those partaking, about three quid apiece."

Marie nodded her approval.

"So, have you all learned your lesson then?" she asked thoughtfully after a moment. The boys looked at her, confusion apparent on their faces.

"That fighting with your fists is undignified and strange?" she clarified. The boys thought for a moment. James spoke first.

"Actually, I think it was an experience." He murmured.

"What?" she asked, confused.

"Kind of seeing how the muggle half lives...makes you wonder really if fighting like that is any different to how wizards do it. I mean, you can only hit somebody so hard, but we have the potential to instantly slice a person open or kill them in a heartbeat, with a flick of a wand...and in real wizarding duels said abilities are frequently used." He continued. There was a very pregnant silence.

"Oh for fuck's sake Prongs, trust you to start talking like this when we're all half beaten-up and hungover." Sirius muttered angrily. James couldn't help but smile.


End file.
